


The only heaven I'll be sent to (is when I'm alone with you)

by Excuseyouclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Goddess! Clarke, Greek Myths, modern mythology, myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excuseyouclarke/pseuds/Excuseyouclarke
Summary: There's a land that Bellamy's heard of, one that his mother would tell him about before wh went to sleep. One where Gods roam freely at their own will. With nothing to lose, Bellamy goes in search of his own God, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd find love in a Goddess.Never did he expect the Gods to punish him for falling in love, or the sacrifice Clarke is willing to make for him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 61





	The only heaven I'll be sent to (is when I'm alone with you)

What would it be to belong?

Bellamy can’t help but to wonder as he books a plane ticket to a remote part of the world. His friends tell him he’s crazy, draining his bank account of a whim and chasing a myth. That’s all they were – stories. Myths and legends his mother told him before he went to sleep, dreaming of gods and goddesses. Later, he would read those exact stories to his sister when she was old enough.

Now she’s grown up, and Bellamy’s left at a loss. He’s spent his entire life looking after others, now he’s doing something for himself. Be it wild, be it crazy, be it absurd, he was doing it.

Murphy stares at him in disbelief when he hands him to keys to his house and tells him to look after it while he’s gone.

“You’re doing this?” Murphy demands, hands still not closed around the keys “You’re actually doing this.”

Bellamy sighs, he’s not expecting to win anybody over, he’s not expecting anyone to understand, he just wants them to accept that he’s doing it. “Yes, Murphy, I’m ready doing this.”

Murphy’s hands close around the keys and he pockets them, “Fine” he shrugs “Need a ride to the airport?”

He’s surprised when Murphy wraps his arms around him and slaps his back at the airport, Bellamy’s backpack on the floor next to him, filled with the few items he deems necessary. “Don’t die out there, yeah?”

Bellamy snorts, feeling more emotional than he thought he would. “I’ll try.”

Murphy pulls back and slaps his arm one last time. “That’s all I ask. And hey, I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”

Bellamy nods his thanks and throws his backpack on his back, turning his back on the last remainder of his old life. Whether he’ll see Murphy again or not, he doesn’t know.

The plane ride is long, he chases the sun the entire time, with a sleepy business man next to him and hours old water on the tray, he watches as they land into the desert, no buildings, just a golden glow over the red sand.

The taxi driver gives him an exasperated look and a sigh when he tells him where he’s going.

“Not tonight” the man says in broken English. “Too dark. Too far away. Tonight, sleep, tomorrow, you go find ghosts on the old land”

While Bellamy wanted to start tonight, he understands, and he can’t make the driver go where he doesn’t want to. The hotel the driver takes him to is cheap, barely clean but functional. That’s all he wants, somewhere to shower and somewhere reasonably comfortable to lay his head. The gods only know when he’ll be able to do that next.

The next day, after a fitful sleep and a lukewarm shower, he packs up his backpack again and orders a taxi from the front desk.

“Still chasing ghosts?” Asks the taxi driver, it takes him a moment too long to realise this is the same driver from the night before.

“Something like that.” Bellamy snorts, settling into the backseat. The drive is long and the day is hot, though the sun has barely left the horizon.

This land is vast nothingness, just sand and rocks, perhaps the occasional creature scurries past, but he can’t quite tell. There’s a haze over the horizon as the sun climbs in the sky.

“What do you expect to find here?” the driver asks pulling him out of his daze.

With a frown, he fishes the necklace out of his pocket. There’s a goddess engraved on it, golden and glowing, Bellamy’s been obsessed with it from a young age. She doesn’t have a name, she doesn’t have a purpose, she simply just exists - much like himself.

“I don’t know” he confesses, “I suppose I want to find more than what I had back home.”

The driver scoffs. “All you will find here are ghosts.”

If ghosts are all that is left, then it’s ghosts he’ll search for. The sun is well past the highest point before he even sees the first structure. It’s old and worn, perhaps one of the first. There’s more and more popping up from the sand, but still, it’s over an hour before he sees the first person. Then slowly, the structures get closer and closer together and he thinks, _it’s true._

The driver stops in the middle of the densest part, there’s more people here, some on their knees, praying to whatever gods they can find, some just walk around, perhaps tourists, perhaps they have their own bit of land here.

“I wish you luck” says the driver wen Bellamy hands over the notes. “I hope you find whatever you are looking for.”

The stool he needs is hard to miss, he walks with as much confidence as he can muster and places the notes on the table.

“I would like to buy some land” he says in the broken language he learnt from an old book.

The man at the stool raises an eyebrow at him, Bellamy can see that he’s mocking him, but he doesn’t care. Let him mock, that’s the least of his problems.

“Plot 172” the man tells him. “Back back row, far left. You have materials?”

“No” Bellamy confesses “they said I could buy them?”

The man gives out an exasperated sigh. “One hour walk west, hurry, daylight is fading.”

Bellamy isn’t one to be intimidated by what others have, he no longer feels the need. Growing up he had much less than his friends, he had accepted that it was the way of life. But here, he longs for something more than he can afford. People spend years here, planning and building grand structures, he sees the shadow of movement inside, beings he could only dream of walk these lands. They bless the grand buildings and those who dedicate their lives to them.

The stool vender was lying when he said an hour west. It was two hours easily, and now the sun was already beginning to fade. He gives them all the money he had saved up for the materials, but the man turns up his nose at it and tells him “You will never achieve what you are looking for with this.”

“I have to try” Bellamy shrugs, there’ no going back now, he’s made his bed, he’ll lie in it.

The man agrees to put aside the materials for tonight, the sun was too low, and he’ll never make all the journeys he needs to get the materials back and forth. He goes back to his plot empty handed, but with yet another promise of tomorrow.

The sun has long since set when he unrolls his sleeping bag. He’s resigned to the fact that this is his forever now, he’ll sleep in a pack on the floor, and perhaps get even a glimpse of what he’s looking for. It’s uncomfortable and the sand irritates his nose, hopefully tomorrow he’ll at least have some sort of covering for the floor.

But despite all of that, when he lays on is back, the stars are brighter than he’s ever seen before. Even back in his tiny hometown, the night sky was rarely unspoiled by light. Bu here, with no electricity and no lights, he can see starts for miles and miles, constellations that he’s never even heard of dotted above him.

He is but a tiny speck in the universe, and it’s an honour to share it with something as beautiful as this.

The wakes with the sun and makes an early start. It’s hours of trekking wood back and forth between the merchants and his plot, he’s hot and sticky and dehydrated by the time it’s finished, he knows it will be worth it in the end.

∞

The people here look down on him.

Every single day, he’s awake before the sun and making an early start on the day. His temple won’t build itself.

Others do though. Or rather, others have people to build their temples for them. Their temples are made of stone and marble, with gold and beauty he can only imagine while his is built from wood and nails, from hard work and determination. His temple has something that theirs can only dream of – his is built with love.

He makes friends with the merchants, the people from villages hours away who bring water and food in exchange to see inside the temples, see what gods may rest there. They take pity in his, bring him water and give him food, they accept that this will never be a grand temple with gods roaming at free will, but none the less they wish him luck.

It’s weeks of the same old routine, and although Bellamy is tired, and he’s sick of the sound of the saw and the hammer, he wonders what his life will be like when it’s built, when he has no purpose other than to sit and wait around.

In those weeks though, he’s only made the structure, the outer shell with no roof. As he lies on a blanket a kind old woman made him, he wonders if he needs a roof when he can lie here of a night and look at the stars in all their beauty.

In the day, he realises that he does need a roof, if he’s going to keep out the burning heat of the sun.

Next there’s stairs, carefully measured out and built slowly, the wood was strong, but Bellamy knows that if he builds them wrong it will put him more behind than he already feels he is. Then finally, a second platform, off the hard desert floor and away from the sand that irritates his skin of a night. 

It felt like it would never be finished, and really, it’s not – nor will it ever be. There’s a hole in the floor where he ran out of wood, despite trying to cut an extra window, he just knows not to step there now. But it’s the most he can do, and for the foreseeable future it’s home.

The first night is hot and sticky, he sleeps on top of his sleeping bag rather than in it now he’s not in the open desert. He misses the stars more than he can say, so he sticks his head outside of the hole he calls a window and watches them dance on the horizon. If he were ever to wish on a shooting star, now would be the time to do it.

But he doesn’t. His time for wishes is over, he makes his own path now.

He can’t sleep, from the heat or anticipation, he doesn’t know. But he tries not to get his hopes up. He’s surrounded by grand temples that the gods roam freely, but all he wants is a glimpse. Just one to visit him in a temple he made himself, from sweat and tears, through hard work and determination. Surely one god can see that.

The stars eventually fade away, and the darkness shifts to a violet morning sky. He hangs the necklace up on a jutted-out piece of wood. His goddess glistens in the sun and casts light when it moves. In other temples, there’s the ethereal glow of gods and goddesses, all he has is an old necklace he took from his mother’s jewellery box.

Days slip away slowly; he’s stopped keeping count. He uses a bottle of water to wash and shave, he eats fruit and roams the village a few hours away. Still there’s no sign of anything in his temple. Maybe everybody was right, he was chasing something he was never going to catch, aiming for something he’ll never achieve. There’s a deep-rooted self-loathing in his heart, he’s useless. He drained his saving account to follow a pipe dream, now he’s left with nothing but a poorly made temple and crushed ambitions.

He wonders what’s left to live for with all of his energy drained he lays on the floor on top of his pack, close to the stairs he’s scared to walk down in case they collapse under him.

A tear runs down his dusty cheek, the days scorching and light casts baton through the cracks in the wood. Dust turns to gold when the light hits it, and he thinks bitterly _if only it was that easy._

The light expands, spreads around the dim room unnaturally, ethereally. He sits slowly with the realisation of what was happening.

She’s standing with her back to him, his mother’s necklace clasped between her fingers. There’s an unearthly light surrounding her like he’s never seen before. Golden hair falls in waves down her back over a white long tunic.

The floorboards creak under him as he stands slowly, scared he’ll frighten her off. Instead, she turns and beams at him, and he’s never seen anything quite so beautiful before.

He wasn’t crazy, the realisation crashes down on him. Everything he’s hoped for, everything he dreamed of is right here in front of him. She lets go of the necklace and steps towards him, brushing a tear from his cheek. Her hand is warm and light, it feels like the first kiss of sunlight after a long winter.

“Why are you crying?” she asks softly, her voice warm and soft, it sounds like honey. He laughs and shakes his head.

“I thought this would never happen” he confesses with a whisper; she smiles and drops her hand.

“I was always going to come for you, Bellamy.”

He looks at her in confusion, “How do you know who I am?”

The goddess looks back to the necklace hung up on the wall. “I’ve always looked over you.”

It’s her. The goddess on his necklace, the one he’s always been drawn to, even as a child. He had hoped to glimpse something, or someone, but never in his wildest dreams did he think he would see her. She’s more beautiful than he ever thought, the tiny pendant does her no justice.

“it’s really you” he breathes in disbelief, “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here” she confirms softly. “Where did you find this? I thought it was long lost.”

He swallows hard, tears still in his eyes. “My mother used to read stories to me as a child, about gods and goddesses, and myths and legends. I saw that necklace in a thrift shop one day when I was a child, and thought my mother would like it, I thought you looked just like a goddess from the stories. I spent all my allowance on that.”

“Did she like it?”

“She loved it. She kept it until the day she died and then – well, I came here to find…” he trails off, he’s not sure what he was looking for now, yes, he was looking for a myth, but also himself. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you.”

She laughs, soft and musical “Why would you have to offer me anything?”

Bellamy blushes deeply, embarrassed suddenly by the state of his temple. “The others here, they have offerings for the gods that visit them.”

Clarke glides to the shoddy window, looking out over the temples, the bustling day of tourists and locals come to catch a glimpse a god. If only they knew what was happening in here. “Those gods are fickle creatures; they have jobs to do yet they’re roaming here being worshipped.”

Bellamy finds himself laughing, “Did you not come here to be worshipped?”

Clarke cocks her head but there’s amusement in her eyes “that’s not what I do.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I watch over lost souls.”

Oh. That explains why she’s here then, it explains why she’s watched over him all these years. A lost soul – that’s the feeling he’s never been able to shake. The feeling of not belonging. He’s never felt as though he’s had a place in the world, not until he’s stood here, with _her_ in front of him.

“I am sorry, about your mother. I know you took it hard.” She murmurs, still looking out over the temples.

“Thank you” he whispers, there’s not much more to be said to the sentiment. He’s learnt that now, the months of accepting condolences before he finally snapped and ran. He may as well admit it now, he’s running. Running from his life, from the feeling of not belonging. Running a to place he might belong, but he never really found that, despite being surrounded by people with a common goal, he never felt accepted.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, she turns to beam at him.

“I’m Clarke, goddess of lost souls.”

“That’s why you watched over me?” he frowns, feeling small and pathetic.

“At the start yes, around the time your sister was born. You felt like your only purpose was taking care of her, you forgot to take care of yourself. You became a caretaker and nothing else, it was a great responsibility to be put on someone so young.”

He wants to cry. Or laugh, possibly both at the same time. He had never felt like anybody had ever noticed that his life had revolved around his sister. Nobody had ever noticed the responsibly he solely held.

“You’re a good person, Bellamy. You just had to live your life for other people.”

How does he respond to that? He doesn’t, at least not in that moment, anyway.

“Thank you” he whispers, it’s the only thing he can think to say, though it doesn’t bear the weight of the true meaning. She beams at him and he blushes, feeling tiny in comparison to a god. “For looking over me”

The light from her seems to fill the room, making it look like more than just the poor excuse of a temple that it was. This was the light he’d envied from other temples, what he had longed for. It’s what he packed up his life and left home for, just a glimpse of the beauty and warmth she emits. He didn’t realise it then, but it’s her he was searching for.

“You don’t have to thank me.” She trails off to a frown and looks away, he’s worried he did something wrong. “I have to go, I’ll be back though.”

The light’s blinding for just a moment, he shields his eyes and then – she’s gone. The darkness seems lonelier than it was before, but his heart feels lighter now. He’s left with so many more questions than answers, but he knows she’s coming back.

He sleeps soundly that night, not bothered by the heat or the hard wooden floor. He waits the next day, but Clarkes no where to be seen. He wonders if she goes between the temples, he’s heard of other gods doing that – going wherever they’re worshipped.

People look at him in scorn when he goes outside the next day, whispers of _how did a shack like that get a God with that much power? Let them whisper_ , he thinks. Let them whisper and seethe in their envy. He didn’t come here for a competition; he came to find a missing part of himself. He cautiously considers he may have found that in Clarke.

It’s days of sitting around, looking out for the tell-tale golden glow of a god, but it doesn’t come. He turns the pendant between his hands, the metal hot and sticky. Occasionally letting it spin and throw light around the room like a mirror ball.

“It makes me dizzy when you do that.”

The voice makes him jump, there’s no golden glow to announce her arrival, she’s just suddenly standing behind him with a smirk. She sits next to him on the floor, legs tucked under her and long hair pulled over her shoulder in waves. She looks a little more human today, but still her beauty is ethereal. There wouldn’t be a single person who would believe him if he told them this, he doesn’t care. He knows, he’s here and exhilarated by her very presence.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, unable to look away from her. She laughs and shakes her head, its only then that he realises she was joking. She gathers the necklace in her hands and looks down wistfully at the pendant.

“Where did you find this?”

“In a thrift shop,” Clarke cocks her heads in confusion, and he laughs at himself, of course she doesn’t know what a thrift shop is. “It’s where you find old things, clothes and stuff for cheap.”

“Oh” she frowns “Like things no one wants anymore?”

The question throws him, he’s never thought of it like that before. “I suppose” he frowns, “It doesn’t mean it’s unloved, it just means it needs somebody else to love it.”

Clarke nods unconvinced and gestures for him to continue. “I saw it when I was shopping with my mom one day, she loved myths and always read them to me, so I snuck back there one day to buy it with my allowance money. I’m pretty sure the owner sold it to me way under the asking price out of pity but –” he shrugs and Clarke smiles softly. “She loved it.”

“That’s good” she whispers, but there’s an emotion he can’t quite place in her voice, and tears in her clear blue eyes. “I’m glad someone loved it.”

Her thumbs stroking the ridges on the pendant wistfully. “was it yours?” he questions quietly, she doesn’t look up at his voice, too lost in thought.

Finally, she responds, “someone made it for me, he said he loved me but -” she sighs, and a tear falls down her cheek. Bellamy reaches to brush it away, her skins softer than he’s ever imagined. “He moved on; all humans do. He made it for me and said it was so I’d always be close to him.”

“I’m sorry” he murmurs, but he really doesn’t know how somebody could love her and just move on like that. He’s not sure he’s ever really loved somebody before, but he’s seen it, it the best and worse ways he’s seen it, and thought that it could never be for him.

“That’s the thing bout being a God, we see humans come and go, they never last very long. It’s a pity.”

Bellamy thinks talking about the fragility of human life as a _pity_ is an odd way to look at it, but then, who he is to questions the Gods?

No one – that’s who he is. Soon enough Clarke will be bored of his pitiful existence and move onto others – other people, other worshippers, other lost souls.

“Hey” she murmurs, pulling him out of his stupor, “don’t do that.”

He laughs because _of course_ she knows what he’s thinking. Maybe she’s not a mind reader, but she can pick up on lost souls – that’s why she’s here.

“I didn’t think you’d come back” he whispers, feeling small and pathetic.

“I told you I would. I always keep my promises.”

The light outside is dying fast, but Clarke emits her own light. When the sun finally goes to rest, Clarke points out constellations he’s never heard of, she tells him that modern scholars rejected the old ways of astronomy, but the Gods still work by them, he thinks he will, too.

She has to leave again soon enough, and he feels a little empty without her. Once again, he’s left for days in a dark shack and scornful looks, his days are reduced to waiting for her, and he can see how people become obsessed, why people dedicate their entire lives to this, because he thinks he may be, too.

He knows when she’s going to come, the sky turns a purple pink in the early mornings, it’s her warning sign. When she does turn up, she tells him stories of lands he could never imagine, she laughs at the Greek Myths book he has in his pack and pouts at her lack of presence in there.

“They always leave out the best ones” she sighs as she closes the book. The night’s dark and she’s not left his side for hours. With a flick her hand, a golden ball of light appears and fills the room. He’s never seen anything so magical. It lights up the temples around them and overpowers the stars. Maybe that’s just her though, he’s never seen anything else like this, not from the other temples around them – even the grandest ones don’t radiate light like this.

When he tells her of his mother, she threads her fingers through his and squeezes gently. It suddenly hits him that the warm glow in his heart isn’t her – it’s love. He’s falling in love.

It’s a bad move – falling in love with a Goddess, how could she possibly love him, a mere human? She’s already said that she loved someone before and it ended in heartbreak. But somehow, he ended up with the necklace, he’s always been pulled to it, was that her? Or was it some strange twist of fate.

“What does it look like?” he asks one night, they’re lay on his sleeping bag, inches apart face to face. “Your realm? You talk about it so much, but I don’t think I’ve got the imagination to picture it.”

She laughs softly and shakes her head, then her browns furrow in concentration. He presses his thumb to the crease between her brows, smoothing it out. The warmth in his chest doesn’t go away, whether she’s here or not. The very thought of her gives him butterflies – this wasn’t in the plan. He wasn’t supposed to come out here to fall in love. Not with a Goddess who could never love him back.

“I could show you” she whispers, shuffling closer to him, her face merely a breath away from his. All he can do is nod; his voice won’t work and his mouth has gone dry. Her gaze drops to his mouth momentarily, then her lips are on his, and there’s flash of light behind his eyelids. When the light fades, there’s a white marble arch and the purple pink sky he sees when she comes to him. Stars still dot in the distant, and there’s an overwhelming feeling of peace, not like anything he’s ever felt before.

The image fades, and it’s nothing compared to Clarke here in his arms. She pulls away slowly, but he holds onto her, keeping his lips pressed against hers. It’s more magical than any vision she could show him. He rolls so he’s hovering above her, his hands pressing hard into the wood floor. She clings to him though, pulling him down and tugging at the hem of his shirt until he pulls it over his head and throws it to the side.

For just those few minutes, everything felt like it was exactly how it was supposed to be. There was no pain, no empty feeling in his chest, he finally felt like he belonged.

But then, he thought of the book of Myths that may be truer than he once thought, and thinks of the gods who are punished for falling in love with mortals, and abruptly he pulls back. Clarke blinks at him confused when he sits back and says “we shouldn’t be doing this”

Tears form in her blue eyes and he realises that she’s took it as a rejection, that’s far from what it is though. “I’m sorry” she whispers, pulling the straps of her tunic back up to her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t stop because I didn’t want to do it” he sighs ruefully, “It’s just, every story says that Gods falling in love with humans never end well.”

She smiles softly and laughs, “Bellamy, those are just stories. There’s plenty in that book that isn’t accurate, and there’s much more to our tales than they could write down. It’s okay, I promise.”

It’s a split second decision to trust her, though he may not fully believe her. In that moment though, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s there with him, pulling on his arms to bring him closer. When kisses him, all his anxieties melt away again – he would happily spend the rest of his life like this.

∞

The days slip away easily when she’s there, and more often than not she spends her nights tucked into his sleeping bag with him.

He bears his deepest secrets to her, ones he’s not sure if she already knows, but it feels good to finally say them out loud. He tells her things he’s never told anyone before. He tells her of the missing pieces he feels withing himself, from not having a father to lean on, then being forces to be a pseudo parent to Octavia, and the fear that he’s messed her up for life.

He tells her that he never felt like he belonged, even here with a common goal he was an outcast.

She tells him of her parents’ disapproval, of her life choice, of her attachments to humans. She wasn’t the daughter they wanted; she wasn’t like her siblings. She tells him of the disappointment they don’t even try and hide.

She doesn’t feel like she belongs either, she’s an outsider to the gods.

The conversations are slow and easy, he could spend the rest of his life talking to her if he were allowed.

She has to leave, of course she does – she has a role to play and lost souls to look over. He’s just grateful for the purple pink skies when he wakes and early and knows she’s close by.

Until one day, he wakes to rain spitting on his face from the window and the sky shaking angrily. The clouds rumble ominously and light up in rage. His shack wasn’t made for this.

There’s a bad feeling about it deep in his gut, he can’t place where the feeling of anxiety came from, but it’s weighing him down and rooting him to the spot.

It carries on all day – the weather and the anxiety. He gets out of his bag and paces the floor, willing for Clarke to just appear in a glow. He keeps her necklace wrapped in a tight fist, the only thing bringing him comfort right now. The sky finally darkens, but the rain persists and creeps into the bottom of his temple and the thunder rattles the wood panes.

He’s watching the lighting over the horizon of the desert when the glowing begins. Usually it would bring him joy, but the glow today is not Clarkes, he knows that without even turning around. It’s dark and menacing and sends a chill down his spine.

“So you’re the mortal who’s caused so much trouble?” The voice is scathing and bitter, it bites at him like frost in a harsh winter. He turns slowly in dread, the woman’s tall and imposing, looking at him like he’s nothing more than a bug in her way. Her eyes seem to pierce his soul, like she knows his deepest secrets and is far from impressed by what she’s seen.

“Where’s Clarke?” He can barely make his voice heard, but she sneers at him none the less. Dread clenches around his heart.

“She’s paying the price for loving _you_.”

“No” he whispers, implores it. “I never wanted that.”

Her eyes narrow and her lip curls in disgust. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted. It’s what’s happening. Clarke knew the price of falling in love with another human. The Gods looked down on the first one and destroyed his memories of her.”

The necklace – it makes sense now. He didn’t move on like Clarke had implied, instead he’d lost all memories of her and made the necklace as a reminder. It obviously hadn’t worked, since it had ended up in a small town thrift shop. His heart breaks all over again for her.

He would not forget. He will do everything in his power to keep her.

“What are they doing to her?”

“Nothing yet.” The woman sneers “she’s not going without a fight.”

His jaw tenses but he knows she’s trying to get a rise from him. She sighs in defeat and says, “I have a message from the Gods, Clarke’s trying to strike a deal, but it relies on you, too.”

The structure around them shakes with thunder, rains soaks his shirt as the wind whips wildly. “I’ll do anything”

“Anything” the woman sneers, “You don’t understand the meaning. All this pain and trouble for something as meagre as love.”

He stares her down with hard eyes, it’s her who doesn’t understand if she can’t see that he’d move a mountain to get Clarke back. He’d face the gods himself and demand them to let her go. If she doesn’t understand that, it’s her who’s missing out.

“I’ll do anything” he repeats, and she huffs in annoyance. “Three tasks, that’s all you have to complete – and Clarkes deal will be accepted.”

“What’s the deal?” He demands, but the woman laughs.

“I can’t tell you that. Do you accept or not?”

“I accept.” He doesn’t miss a beat, he doesn’t need to think or consider it, whatever they throw at him, he’ll take with grace. With a click of her fingers, the temple melts away and he’s stood at the bottom of a mountain, he vaguely recognises it from books as Mount Olympus. The heats sweltering as the sun beats down unrelenting in the clear blue sky. It hurts his eyes after the dimness of the temple. In front of him is a boulder half the size of him.

“Your first task is simple, roll the boulder up the mountain.”

The mountain is steep and cruel, it’s a task that’s near impossibly. But he’ll do it.

The boulder barely moves at first, it takes him shoving it with his shoulder to get a start. The skin on the back of his neck burns and the skin on his hands blister and bleed. His calves burn and his arms ache, but he doesn’t give up. Not now, not ever.

He does, however need to rest. He leans against the boulder and tries to catch his breath. The sun hasn’t moved from the highest point and the sun still beats down on him. He knows it’s been longer than a few hours, it’s maybe even been a day, but dusk seems to be no where near. Bloody handprints cover the boulder and sweat soaks his shirt. He doesn’t know how much longer he can last without water, but he knows he has to.

When he’s caught his breath and his legs are rested, he starts again and pushes against the boulder with his back until it starts rolling again, but the momentum has gone. No matter how much strength he tries to put into it, his arms are weak and the mountain is steep. He’s dehydrated and unbelievably tired. He has to do this, for Clarke, for himself.

But his arms won’t push anymore, and his legs can’t bear his own strength. His heart may break free of his chest soon.

There’s a glow above him, brighter, more potent than the sun, a glow he’d recognise anywhere. It’s Clarke, calling to him, it gives him the last bit of strength to the push through, his aching muscles scream in protest, but he doesn’t care, Clarke’s right there and he will get to her.

The last stretch is the worst, blood trails down his arms and dries in sticky rivers. He finally collapses at the peak, out of breath and exhausted. A bloodied, dirty hand passes him a flask, Clarkes sitting next to him, looking much like him – bloodied and sweaty and dusty. There’s tear stains through the dust on her face, with a shaking hand he reaches to wipe a fresh tear from under her eye away.

She shakes her head in apology and sighs.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, but she only shakes her head in response.

“What’s the matter Clarke, Zeus got your tongue?” The woman from earlier scathes mockingly. Clarke grits her teeth and rolls her eyes. It’s then she realises she’s being serious, Clarke can’t speak. The woman turns to look at Bellamy and asks, “Do you yield yet?”

“Never.”

She laughs again and looks to Clarke, “this is what you’re wishing for? You can see the pain humans carry with them, why would you want this? What could you possibly gain form becoming mortal?”

Clarke just glares in response. Was that the deal she made, to become mortal? He looks to her in horror, how could she possibly want to give up being a goddess for him? The life she must lead, the immortality that she would give up for him. But then – he would give it up for her, too. He’d given up his life at home just to find her, he’d live in the desert in the listening sun if it meant she would occasionally go to him. He’d do that for the rest of his existence, he’d push a thousand boulders up a mountain if she were waiting for him at the top.

“You’re lucky” the woman’s voice cuts through like a knife in a fist fight. “The gods were merciful for the next task; all you have to do is sit.”

Clarke throws him off balance slightly when she throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. He hugs back and holds her as close as possible, not knowing when he’ll see her again. She pulls back with tears in her eyes and kisses him softly, he savours every moment her lips are on his. Her forehead presses to his and then – his world twists and contorts around him, his stomach turns and his vision blurs for a moment.

Wherever she’s taken him, it’s nighttime now. The world is black and starless, the moon hangs in the sky, small and lonely. The only thing around him is a single olive tree, protruding sad from the dry, cracked ground.

“You can have your rest.” She tells him in a snarl. “Your only task is to sit under the tree and not open your eyes until I say so.”

There had to be a catch, or this was a trick. He was exhausted enough to fall asleep on the spot and not open his eyes for another week. So, he’s suspicious to say the least, but then, who is he to question the gods. He sits underneath the tree like instructed and crosses his legs, closing his eyes he waits for the command to open them again, knowing that it wouldn’t comes for a long time.

It’s easy at first, his aching muscles getting the rest they need. His eyes were heavy anyway so really, this is a relief.

Then it’s tedious. He must have been sitting here for hours, and his butt has gone numb and his legs ache from being in the same position. Still he doesn’t move.

Then the whispers start, from where, he doesn’t know. Sometimes they sound like they’re right next to him, right over his shoulder, other times they’re far away. No matter where they’re coming from, he still can’t understand what they’re saying.

Then it’s clearer, it’s his name being coo’d, like he’s a baby that needs soothing. Then he’s being shouted, screamed at like he’s a moody teenager slamming his bedroom door. It takes him too long to realise it’s his mothers’ voice.

“Oh my boy” she sighs, a hand cradles his cheek softly. A tear slips from his eye, but still he doesn’t open them. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Mom?” He whispers in disbelief, he never thought he’d hear her voice agin, never thought he’d be this close. He can feel her right in front of him, if he opened his eyes, he’d be able to see her.

But that’s what they want. For him to fail, for him and Clarke to be kept apart. He won’t do it, he won’t give up on her.

“I missed you” he murmurs, and he can hear the gentle laugh he had missed so much.

“I miss you to, sweetheart. Open your eyes, let me see you.”

“I can’t” he frowns, “I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” she soothes “I won’t tell anyone, I just want to see my boy”

The tears run freely now, falling over her hand on his cheek. It burns his eyes and leaves a lump in his throat. He will not open his eyes.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

She sighs in disappointment, and her hand drops from his face. He has to do this.

“I love you” he whispers, but he knows she’s already gone. The silence that is left is deafening. It hums and vibrates through him, he squeezes his eyes tighter and wills for this to be over. But he knows it won’t be that easy, the gods are not that kind.

The air is suffocating here, not particularly hot or cold, but close. There’s a pressure that feels like it’s closing on and him and trapping the air in him lungs. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up now, his back aches and his legs are tingling. Still he sits with his eyes closed, all to get back to her.

The next sounds throws him off completely, it’s a sound he knows anywhere. Octavia laughs, young and wild and screeches his name at the top of her lungs. Arms wrap around his neck, short and lean and squeezes him hard.

“Bell come play!” she shrieks, he can feel her bouncing behind him, as she always did as a child – with too much energy and swallowed by joy when her big brother would play with her. “The floor’s lava, Bell. Come and play”

It’s hard to deny her anything, she was always a weakness. But he stays rooted to the spot with his eye shut tight. “Not right now, O. I’m busy.”

“You’re just sitting there” she huffs, legs wrap around his waist and cling to him, he used to call her a koala bear, she’d cling to his leg and he’d have to walk around the house with her attached to his leg. He’s not ashamed to admit his disappointment when she grew too old for those games. “Come on, the floor’s lava.”

Underneath him, the dry stone is heating up, it was subtle at first, but he can feel it through his jeans now. “I’m sorry, O. I can’t play right now.”

“Why not?” she demands, her temper getting the better of her. The floors burning now, heating more rapidly. He wont move.

“Shall I tell you a secret?” he whispers, she nods against his shoulder. The floor cools slightly with her temper. “I fell in love.”

He hears her sniff beside him. “With a girl?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Remember the goddess on moms’ necklace?” she nods against him, “Well I found her. Her names Clarke, and she’s beautiful, and kind, and caring. But if I want to see her again, I need to sit right here and not open my eyes.”

“But why?”

“Because that’s what the gods told me I need to do. Shall I tell you another secret?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to fall in love someday, too.”

“No, I won’t” she laughs with a snort, “that’s silly.”

“It’s not silly” he smiles, he wishes he had the chance to tell her this when she was actually this young, that she’d get away from their dysfunctional home life and be really, truly happy. “You’ll find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. I won’t be happy at first, I’ll make his life hell and you’ll hate me for a little bit, but I promise you, it changes and you’re so happy.” A tear slides down his cheek, and a little hand wipes it away.

“I could never hate you, big brother.”

“You just remember that” he says with a grin. “promise me you’ll remember that.”

“I promise” Octavia whispers, and her arms unwind from his neck and he’s left with silence again.

Soon, he thinks hopefully. She has to come back soon.

But she doesn’t. he’s left in the darkness with the air suffocating him. There’s nothing left to do but sit and think. He thinks of all the games he played with Octavia as a child, despite not having much, they always had fun. He thinks of his mother’s face when she opens the paper parcel he’d made with Clarkes necklace in, the confusion and joy.

He thinks of her funeral, small and quiet, they had always been a family that kept to themselves, and it showed when only a handful of people turned up to pay their respects. He told himself that it was fine, they were better off that way anyway. But deep down, he was haunted and devastated.

He thinks of what his own funeral would have been like, with his handful of friends and sister. What would he have had to show for a life? He had no big achievements, he never cared much for the thought of falling of love, not until now. He had no great career or works to be remembered by; he’d have been a rotting plot in a graveyard someday, soon to be forgotten.

A scream again, but this time Octavia’s older, it’s a pained scream, one that tugs his heart of his chest and squeezes until it’s crushed.

“Bellamy help” she shouts, he clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes shut, it’s a trick. It’s just a trick. “Bellamy please.”

_Just a trick._

“Bellamy why won’t you help me?” it’s tearing him apart, he knows it’s designed to do that but still, he’s not sure how much more he can take. She’s his sister, his responsibility – not just his responsibility though, he loves her, even more than he loves himself. “If you loved me then why did you leave me?”

A tear falls down his cheek, he’s never cried like this before, he’s never had his emotions pulled at like this. All for love.

“I’m sorry.”

The world goes silent again, and though the gods have failed in making him open his eyes, they’ve still made him feel like a failure.

“Bellamy” the word is barely a whisper, but he knows the voice so well, it’s the one voice that would make him open his eyes. “You’re doing so well.”

“Clarke?”

Hands cradle his face and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. “Don’t open your eyes. Promise me you won’t open your eyes until she says so.”

“I promise.” He swears, his hands blindly find her waist and he clings to her as best her can. “I’ll do anything.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I never meant for this to happen.” Her voice is so quiet even in the silence, he remembers then she couldn’t speak earlier.

“What’s happening?” he whispers back into the darkness, though – there’s a glow behind his eyelids one only she can make.

“I shouldn’t be here, if they found out they’d punish us both. I’m so sorry Bellamy, if I knew they were going to do this I never would have come near you.”

“No” he rasps harshly, “please, no. it’s almost over, right? We can do this, I promise I’ll do this.”

Somewhere in the distance, there’s the howl of wind and he feels Clarke stiffen in front of him. “I have to go, it’s almost over. I love you.”

Her lips press to his, soft and sweet, then she’s gone, and he’s only left with the dark and his thoughts echoing.

_It’s almost over._

True enough to Clarkes word, the world shifts around him and he lands hard on his back. His world rocks gently side to side as the wind whips around his ears.

“Open your eyes.” _She’s_ back, and bitter sounding but that means he did it, he passes the test and he’s that much closer to the end. He’s on a boat now in stormy grey seas, the sky rumbles like before and rain spits at his face. In the distance is a glow – Clarke, but somethings not right there, he can feel it in his gut, the glows dim and sad, was she being punished for going to him?

The woman’s not there anymore, instead, he’s met with a man maybe a bit younger than himself, curly light hair and soft eyes. There’s a bow slung around his shoulders and a golden arrow in his hands.

“Who are you?” Bellamy demands, with more power than he has the right to when faced with a God.

“Who am I” the man laughs, his voice is gentle and musical, sweet like honey and sweet summer tea “I am Eros, here for your next task.”

He knows enough about Eros to know that he should be merciful to him, or at least to Clarke. But there is nothing merciful in his eyes. He takes the bow from his back and holds it up. The wind blows wildly, and the rain falls heavily in sheets so he can barely see Eros in front of him. Still the glow is there, like a beacon calling to him.

He’s never been bothered much by motion sickness, but the swaying of the boat turns his stomach now, sending him dizzy and lightheaded.

“You claim to love Clarke?” Eros asks mockingly, he spins the arrow between his fingers, then stops it abruptly to point it at him.

“I do love her” he defies, Eros just sneers at and looks towards the glowing in the distance.

“Then you aim will be true.” He sneers and hands him the bow. Bellamy has never picked up a bow in his life, let alone used one. The arrow he passes him is heavy and solid, he’s sure it won’t make it a few feet, let alone the miles away the glowing seems to be.

“You want me to shoot Clarke, with an arrow?” Bellamy asks slowly, not sure he’s understanding the situation right. Surely they can’t want him to shoot her, that seems counter productive to her becoming human, if that is what she’s doing. But then – Eros is the god of love, his arrows are supposed to make people fall in love. The tip of the arrow is sharp, drawing blood when Bellamy taps his finger on it.

“I want you to shoot her through the heart.”

He can’t even see her, just the glow. How was he supposed to shoot at her heart without knowing where it was? He looks to Eros in question, he smirks back.

“If your love is true then your aim will be too.” Is the only indication Eros gives. With a sigh, knowing he won’t get much more out of him, he lifts the arrow to his shoulder and loads the arrow. It feels awkward and uncomfortable, he doesn’t even know if he’s holding it right, but he pulls back and stares ahead at the glowing, pulsing and signally him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the arrow fly into the fog and now, there’s nothing left but to wait.

It doesn’t take seconds though until the fog clears and he sees Clarke tied to a pyre, head bowed and blood seeping from the arrow lodged in her heart.

“No” he gasps, it was a trick, he’s killed her and now she’s left there bleeding out. He turns to Eros, but he’s just looking at Clarke in awe.

“Maybe your love was truer than we first thought.” He shrugs, “well, time face the reckoning.”

“Reckoning?” he demands, “I have done everything you wanted me to do, I did everything you asked. Please tell me, what could possibly be next?”

“Swim.” Eros snarls. “Swim to her and go through the caves to the underworld, you’ll face your reckoning there.”

He wants to fight. He wants to put his foot down and say _no. I’ve done my tasks and I was promised it would be over._

But he doesn’t, he wont fight with the gods when there’s so much at stake. So with a parting glare he jumps into the stormy seas and lets the glow guide him. The wind works against him, he doesn’t seem to get far, the waves push him back and his muscles still ache from the mountain and sitting with his legs crossed for hours or days. he’s never been a strong swimmer at the best of times, only ever swimming in the community pools back home as a kid. Never in the sea though, never with the current trying to sweep him away.

But finally, he makes it just as the glow fades, but Clarke’s nowhere to be seen, only the pyre she was tied to and a pool of blood on the floor. He feels sick looking at it, knowing that he did that to her. There’s a cave to the left of him, impossibly dark and ominous, and for the first time, he feels as though he’s living a dream. None of this could possibly be real, he’ll wake up in his bed soon enough and reminisce on the strange dream he had and go back to his mediocre life and isolation, the unbearable feeling of not belonging weighing heavy on his shoulders.

The cave is narrow and winding, there’s a continual dripping sound that doesn’t get any closer or further away, but it stays right his ear the entire time he’s walking. The cave seems infinite, at every twist and turn he’s convinced it has to be the end, but it never is.

Wherever the gods have taken him, time doesn’t seem to follow the same rules as his world, days and nights are endless and bend to their own will. He wonders what happens to him if they’ve failed the tasks, wonders if they’ll erase his memories of her and he’ll be left in the dark. What will happen to Clarke – will they forgive her sins and allow her to stay? He somehow doubts it.

Finally, the cave opens up to a green glow from the strange glow of the lanterns. Ahead in the dank room, are two thrones he knows belong to Hades and Persephone, he doesn’t need to guess that. Clarke is on her knees next to Persephone’s throne, her tunic blood stained and dirty from the tasks they were given. Despite her ragged appearance, he is unbelievably overjoyed to see her again. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are defiant as she stares straight ahead.

“So this is the human you’re risking everything for?” booms a voice, Hades glares at him in a way that should make his knees shake, instead, he stands tall and strong and doesn’t look down.

Clarke doesn’t answer, just keep her steely gaze straight ahead. Hades and sighs and looks over to her, disappointment clear on his face.

“You.” It’s directed at him, the words go right through him, shaking his bones. “what do you have to say about this?”

“I’m sorry” Bellamy blinks, he’s never apologised so much in his life, but he’s meant every single one. “For everything, I never meant for this to happen, I never meant for anybody to get hurt. But I won’t apologise for falling in love, not with her.”

Hades scoffs, but Persephone looks sadly at Clarke. she reaches out a hand to stroke Clarkes hair from her face, it finally makes Clarke look up and gaze pleadingly.

“Hades” Persephone sighs, “please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Have some empathy.”

The anger that rolls from Hades is palpable, it finally makes Bellamy look away. “Don’t make this harder?” Hades demands, “She has defied us at every step, all her life she’s not fit in, we told her to stay away from humans and what does she do? Fall in love – twice. The first time I could forgive, but not this time.”

The necklace feels heavy in his pocket, he slips his hand in and gathers it in his fist. She’s here with him, no matter what.

“You both passed your tests though.” Hades finally sighs in defeat, “and a deals a deal – though it pains me to say so.”

Hope crawls up cautiously, but he doesn’t say so.

“Are you sure this is what you want.” He looks to Clarke now, who just nods, still incapable of speaking. She finally looks to him, the same optimism mirrored in her eyes. “Then I suppose I have to let you go.”

Clarke bows her head and a tear drops down her cheek. Bellamy longs for nothing more than to go to her and wrap her in his arms, he can’t bear to see her cry any longer, but he knows he must.

“I should congratulate you on passing your tests, they were no easy fate, but you proved your love to each other and now, you can be together.” Hades stands, Clarke and Persephone with him.

Persephone wraps Clarke in a hug and squeezes, tears flowing freely. “I’ll miss you, sweet girl” Persephone whispers, Clarke nods back.

“I’ll be watching.” Hades informs him with a gaze of fire. “Every little thing, I’ll be watching. If I think for one moment you’re not treating her right, you’ll feel the wrath of the underworld.”

“I understand” he nods, and he does – but he never plans on letting Clarke go, he wouldn’t have gone through any of this if he had even a shadow of a doubt.

“Good. Then you may go, but with one last instruction – Clarke will follow you, do not look back until you reach your realm. If you do, she’ll be lost forever.”

“Eurydice and Orpheus” Bellamy whispers, Hades grins bone chillingly and jerks his head for him to leave now. Clarke nods at him and with one last longing glance, committing her to memory he turns and walks back through the cave. Persephone’s sobs slowly die off, and he’s left walking the quiet dark. He can’t hear Clarkes footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t look back.

The Cave is longer than he remembers, colder too. His footsteps ricochet off the walls and bounce back to him, but only his. He still can’t hear Clarke behind him.

“Clarke?” he calls out, coming to an abrupt stop. There’s no tell-tale glow, no sounds to say that she’s there.

“Don’t look back” comes her voice, from where – he doesn’t know. But she’s here with him, that’s all that matters. Whether he hears her or not, he keeps walking, never once looking back. He thinks of what happened to Eurydice, lost forever because of Orpheus’ impatience. That won’t be him, he’d wait forever for her.

He trips on a rock and Clarke gasps, he turns to assure her that he’s okay, he’s fine.

“Don’t” she shouts, voice cracking. “don’t turn around, don’t look back.”

He straightens up shakily and stumbles forward, the end has to be close, it has to be.

There’s finally a light up ahead, they’re finally at the end when Clarke whispers “I love you Bellamy”

“I’ll see you on the other side” he promises, and steps into the blinding light, embracing the warmth and letting it take over him. Clarke will be here, he promises himself. They proved themselves time and time again, she’ll be here with him.

His bedroom looks exactly like it did the day he left, his bed still neatly made and his backpack on the floor and his dogeared book on the side table. His heart pounds in confusion, his heads fuzzy and his hands shake anxiously. He doesn’t know how he got here, his memory is blurred and a mess. He should be somewhere else, but he can’t place where that it is.

The necklace is still in his pocket, he takes it out and lets the pendant spin. She’s there, his goddess bathed in an ethereal glow.

“Bellamy” she breathes from behind him, and all floods back. He made it, they made it. Her tunics still bloody and grimy, her hands blistered and shredded much like his, but they’re together. She steps forward on shaking legs and wraps her arms around him tightly, he hugs back and vows to never let her go.

“It worked” he laughs, half in amazement and half in disbelief. He pulls back and cradles her face, she’s more beautiful than he remembered. “You’re here.”

“I’m human.” It breaks his heart, thinking of everything she gave up for him. “I wouldn’t change it for the world” she assures him, “I never fit in there anyway.”

He presses his forehead to hers, in relief and pure euphoria and she whispers, “I’m yours, always.”

“No, I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm participating in t100 fic for BLM, check out the [carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) for everything you need to know about it!


End file.
